


Portrait of the Artist as a Young Girl

by Redrikki



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide 2004
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something magical about Uncle Felix's flat.  Maybe it's all the art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portrait of the Artist as a Young Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quietbang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietbang/gifts).



> Special thanks to my beta [Alina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alina/pseuds/Alina)

There was something almost magical about Uncle Felix’s loft. The splashes of color and swear words on the walls were like a train station and the sunlight through the windows spelled out secret, backwards messages on the floor. Mrs. S hardly ever let Kira visit and she’d never really gotten a chance to explore. The upper drawers of the bureau were full of boring things like socks and underwear and Felix’s usual ratty jumpers, but the bottom ones had silly things like sparkly feather boas and leather pants with no bottom. The windowsills in the bathroom were cluttered with men’s deodorant, hair care products and eye make-up, and the kind of mouthwash that anyone could use. Uncle Felix had a see-through closet, a big sliding door and pretty much the coolest flat ever.

The best part, though, was all the art. Supplies spilled from every available nook and cranny in a way Mrs. S would never have allowed. The paint had names like cobalt, vermilion, and malachite which sounded so much richer and more grown-up than the plain old blue, red and green from her own art box. Some of the paintings, like the ones of the Aunties and the black man with the ball, looked almost like photographs while others were like something out of a dream of blue lizard people and swirling skies

“Hello, Monkey,” Felix called as he pulled open the door, juggling a Tim Horton’s bag and a coffee tray. “Your mum back yet?”

Kira shook her head and took the bag. It was filled with muffins and croissants, which were all right, but weren’t donuts. Uncle Felix pulled the door closed and set the drinks down on the counter. “Did you get me hot chocolate?” 

“Of course,” he said, handing it over. He pulled a pair of muffins out of the bag. Kira snatched the chocolate chip and left the blueberry for Felix. “And where’s your Auntie Cosima?”

“She’s napping.” Auntie Cosima had gotten really excited after Kira showed her Professor Duncan’s book. She’d flipped through the pages, mumbled to herself, and done everything except read it like she’d promised. After a while, Kira got bored and the next time she checked, Cosima was out again.

Felix looked up toward the bedroom in concern. The curtains were still closed like Kira had left them. “Let’s let her sleep, then.”

Kira nibbled on her chocolate chip muffin and watched as Felix picked listlessly at his. When she and Mummy had come home from Dyad, Mrs. S, Uncle Felix and Daddy had hugged them both like they never wanted to let go. Then they’d come here to hug with the Aunties and dance till they dropped. Now she couldn’t tell if his drooping shoulders were from relief or exhaustion. “Uncle Felix?”

“Umm,” he mumbled, his face half-smushed into his hand. He took a gulp of his coffee and woke up a bit more. “Yes, Monkey?”

Kira picked the chocolate chips off the top of her muffin and ate them one by one. “You’re an artist, right?” She asked. 

“Well, I certainly like to think so,” Felix said.

Kira reached out to touch the painting of Auntie Cosima in her bra and lab coat. “How come you’ve never painted me?” 

“Well, you’ve never sat for me, have you?” Felix considered her over the top of his coffee. “Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set his coffee down and then, as Kira watched, managed the magic trick of pulling together an easel, canvas and palette from the chaos of supplies before Kira could even finished her drink. “Now,” he said, tying off his paint-spattered apron, “how would you like to be immortalized?”

That was a very serious question. Kira’s picture was going to be on the wall for everyone to see forever and ever; it needed to perfect. She didn’t want to be naked like the man with the ball or prissy like Auntie Alison or dead like Mummy. She could be a scientist like Auntie Cosima, maybe. Science was fun, except that wasn’t quite right either. Mummy said that she escaped from the Bad Auntie because Kira’s drawing showed her what to do. Her art saved Mummy. “I want to be an artist!”

“A girl after my own heart,” Felix laughed and set up a blank canvas for her. The easel was too tall but the palette was covered in grown-up paint, so that was all right. “And now, for the piece de resistance.” He pulled a black felt beret from behind his back with a flourish and set it at a jaunty angle on Kira’s head. “Now you look like a proper artist.”

Felix stepped back and framed her with his hands. Their easels faced each other across the coffee table like duelists in a Western. “Ready, set, go!” Kira shouted and seized her brush. She quickly traced the oval of Uncle Felix’s face before she stopped. This wasn’t a race. They were supposed to be immortalizing each other. Kira stepped back from her easel and really looked at her uncle. He had on tight, battered jeans and a purple and silver jumper under his apron. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lips were pursed in concentration. It was, she thought, a very artistic expression. She started slowly, carefully, to capture it.

“Hey,” said Auntie Cosima from the top of the bedroom stairs. “What’s up?” She adjusted her glassed and the tube in her nose. Kira wondered if it was itchy. It looked uncomfortable. “Is that breakfast?” 

“There’s coffee and baked goods so help yourself,” Felix answered absently, still focused on his work. He didn’t look up until Cosima started to make her way down the stairs dragging her oxygen tank behind her with a clump, clump, clump. “Oh God, you look-” He swallowed hard. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she lied and immediately started coughing. It was harsh, wet and rattling sort of cough that seemed to go on and on forever. Uncle Felix took a step towards her but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “Better,” she rasped as soon as she got her breath back. “Promise.” 

She certainly didn’t look good, but Auntie Cosima really did seem better. She was still pale and her make-up was all smudge-y, but she’d woken up on her own without Kira having to shake her. Her eyes were bright and she had energy. Kira’s bone marrow must be working!

Cosima settled in at the breakfast counter and fished a croissant of the bag. “So, art,” said Auntie Cosima. “You drawing him like one of your French girls?” she asked with an amused little smile.

Kira shook her head. “I’m painting,” she laughed, “not drawing.” Grown-ups could be so silly sometimes. She didn’t even know any French girls. 

“Well, you’re doing a really great job.” Cosima said. She made a face as she sipped her cold coffee but drank it anyway. 

Kira stepped back to consider her work. She was doing a great job if she did say so herself. She’d captured Felix’s artist-face and perfectly styled hair. Now she just needed to do his clothes and easel. 

“Speaking of French girls, have you heard anything from Delphine?” asked Uncle Felix. He was watching Cosima and not his brush as it drifted back and forth across the canvas. 

Auntie Cosima shook her head and took a bite of her croissant. “I texted her earlier but I haven’t heard back. Felix,” she said excitedly, “I found something.” 

Felix looked up sharply and stopped painting altogether. “Something. Something good?” 

A slow smile crept across Cosima’s face as she laid Professor Duncan’s book on the counter. It was just like Mummy’s and nothing like it at the same time. “Something very good. Something that will change everything.” 

“What is that? What—”

“There!” Kira shouted, putting the final splash of color on Felix’s apron. She stood back to make sure. He was perfect. “I’m done,” she announced and raced across the room to see how Felix’s painting was coming. It was just a drawing with some weird patches of color across her face. They weren’t even the right color. 

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, Monkey.” Uncle Felix wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. “We’re just getting started.” 

“No worries,” Cosima said with a smile. “We’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”


End file.
